


Jim's Birthday

by Bennie133



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fem!Sherlock, Genderbend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennie133/pseuds/Bennie133
Summary: Not everything is quite what it seems, even on the deeper surface. Jim is not who Sherlock thought he was.





	Jim's Birthday

Sherlock was in the kitchen experimenting when John came down from his room, “I'm heading off to the office now, Sherlock.” He said whilst slipping on his jacket, looking at her. She gave a non-committed 'hmm' in response as she leaned over closer to a petri dish, poking it with a stir stick.

“Milk.” She said, letting him know they were already out again. He sighed, “Yeah, yeah. I'll pick it up from the shop on my way home.” He gave her another look. She had just gotten back from being gone three years, and they were getting back to a normal routine now. When she had first come home he had been so angry but all he could do was cry and pulled her into a hug. After she had explained everything, he had still been angry but he had forgiven her. She had, after all, saved his life, Mrs. Hudson's, and Lestrade. With another sigh, he opened the door and walked out of the flat.

Sherlock stopped what she was doing and watched the door before going to the window, watching him leave the flat. She gave a small smile as she left him to watch and went back to her petri dish. She was currently working with the 1918 Influenza Virus A, trying to see if she could find a cure out of boredom. She knew that those with lower immune systems had a better chance of survival and she wanted to discover more about it. So far all she had done was accelerate the mutation process of the virus to get it to the point where it had become dangerous for most people. While taking a few mental notes, she heard her phone beep somewhere. “John, my phone is-!” She stopped mid-sentence, remembering that he was gone. With a huff of annoyance, she carefully left everything on the table and went to where the phone was. She picked it up, not bothering to look at the number.

“I'm bored without you, Sherlock. I want to come and play! - JM”

Sherlock's breath caught in her throat, Mycroft had assured he was actually dead! She would have to have a talk with him later about that. She quickly typed her reply, “Come and play at our last battle of wits. - SH” After she hit send, she quickly moved about the flat, throwing on her socks and shoes, and then she went to the coat rack grabbing her coat and scarf. After those were on she reached into her pockets and pulled on her gloves, and she slipped out the door without saying anything to Mrs. Hudson. Hailing a cab, she frowned. What was Jim going to do now? What damage would he cause? She already was angry about not being with John for so long, hurting him the way that she had. She knew John had hardly eaten or slept properly since she had been gone, and that he had gone back to a psychologist. When a cab finally stopped and let her in, she gave the address of St. Bart's Hospital, and she sunk back into the chair, crossing a leg over the other. She stared idly at her cell phone, wondering if she should say anything else, ask anything. Just then her phone went off again, “Waiting for you, darling! Looking forward to our little reunion. - JM”

Sherlock put her cell away in her pocket. Not too much longer and they had reached the hospital, and she paid and got out of the cab. She walked in and quickly made her way up the stairs, not even bothering with the elevator. Within minutes she was at the top. She paused right before the door leading to the roof, and then pushed herself forward. There she saw Jim, in his suit pants and just the white button-down suit, no jacket, with his tie that had the little skulls on them. Giving him a once over, she saw that he had been in a hotel in the inner part of the city, he had been eating and sleeping better, and he looked healthier in general. He also must have been excited, by the grin plastered all over his face.

“Sherlock.” He all but purred, stepping closer to her. “How good it is to see you after so long!” He said, his voice changing pitches from low to high back to low. “I've missed you sooooo much!” He said, his arms spreading out. “Tell me, how have you been?” He asked with a smug smirk.

“Based on your smugness, you already know so I don't understand why you bother asking,” Sherlock replied easily while watching him and trying to find out his motives for bringing her hear. He seemed very relaxed, like he was expecting much more than a casual conversation. “Why?” She asked.

He looked from side to side before looking to her, “Because I'm very bored, Sherlock.” He answered, kicking imaginary dust on top of the building, “And because I'm supposed to tell you something.”

At this Sherlock quirked her brow at him, and she could tell he meant it. “What then, Jim, are you suppose to be telling me?” She asked slowly, cautiously.

He grinned at her like a tiger, “Hmm, why don't you try to deduce something, Sherlock?” He said, taunting her.

Sherlock shook her head, “I've already observed, but nothing is giving it away. You've most likely made sure of that as well, I’m assuming?”

Jim shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not.” He said slyly, and then he took a few more steps closer to her, now only standing a few feet away from her. After the two stared at each other for awhile, Jim smiled at her and then chuckled. “You might not believe me till you think it through. Then it will all make more sense to you, why things happened the way that they had.” He said, knowing this would annoy her, that she didn't know something.

She frowned, “Explain, then.” She snapped, not having the patience for his games. She had finally been able to just relax and not worry about making sure John was safe, and everyone else, and now here was Jim, back to haunt her with puzzles she would love but would be putting John into danger again.

“Hmmmm, alright, alright, I'll tell you. No need to yell or anything.” He circled around her, walking back to the same spot he had been in. “I'm not a criminal.” He said, and she scoffed, “In fact, I work for the British government.” He knew he had her attention, her eyes focusing on him, her posture that of her being serious and her concentration all on him. “About five years ago, Mycroft and I had found out about a terrorist organization, and we knew that we would have to do something about it. We had devised a plan about making Jim Moriarty, the consulting criminal, and we began to work. Mind you, my name is still Jim Moriarty and I will not be changing it because of this. We knew we had to get you out of the picture, that once you got roots into the operation that you would drag it down. Though you played a part brilliantly also in helping me get my name, and for that, I must say thank you.” He waited for a bit before continuing, “So we had to make the fall. It's why Mycroft told me anything about you when you were younger, and why it was easier for us to set up all of the robberies that would make Jim Moriarty known everywhere... In the past three years while you've been destroying my 'webs', which were real criminals by the way, don't worry, we thought that through, we've taken down a whole terrorist group that was larger than most could ever imagine. Still, we had to make sure you wouldn't jeopardize the whole operation if you're wondering why you had to be gone.” He stopped, and looked at her, waiting for a response.

Sherlock thought it over, though she knew he left out quite a bit of detail and gave her the rough summary. It did make sense. It also meant that Mycroft hadn't been an idiot, giving her information away to a criminal. That in itself made her feel slightly better, though she was now bitter towards Mycroft not just saying that he needed her to avoid being in England for a while. “What about Carl Powers and his shoes? We were both much younger when that happened.”

Jim grinned, knowing she would have asked that. “The government took over that. They found the murderer a long time ago, though it took them longer than it sold have.” Jim said, rolling his eyes. “They didn't let the police in because his father had been in a criminal organization, and there was a war between two groups, so they killed his child.”

Sherlock nodded, taking in all of this information. She knew Jim wasn't lying, and it all did make sense. “So you're... A part of the government. Boring.” She commented, making Jim chuckle. Sherlock stood there for a moment before laughing, “What a game!” She exclaimed, and Jim grinned at her, pleased that she had taken it like this, the way he had hoped she would have. She then looked at him, “Why today? Why tell me now?”

“Because I was hoping for your company today.” He replied, getting her to look at him with curiosity. “It's my birthday, and I'm rather bored and tired of spending them by myself. That being said, would you like to dine somewhere with me?”

Sherlock thought for a bit. She wasn't really that hungry since she ate two days ago, but maybe she could eat a bite or two of something. “Why not?”

Jim chuckled, “Good, good.” He said, walking by her side and taking her arm, “Let's be on our way, then. I heard there's this restaurant just a few blocks away that serves excellent crepes and that...”

The two walked out of Bart's chatting, and Jim led her to a black vehicle that he had waiting for them, letting her in first and then getting in closing the door.

The two had continued onto breakfast, and they split a crepe with strawberries and blueberries since they both were not going to eat very much, and had a nice hot tea to go along with the meal. They didn't talk too much, just a few tidbits here and there, and mainly they were observing each other and the reactions they got from the other. “Do you still work for the government, or what do they have you doing now?” Sherlock asked, not knowing if he still worked for Mycroft. She couldn't tell and it frustrated her.

Jim shook his head, “No, I don't. That was the last thing I did there. I'm most definitely not poor by any means, so I don't plan on going back there. It's rather dull. I'd much rather stay home and work on making computer components and such, making better technology. It's easier to react with computers than people. More.... enjoyable, less complicated. Complex, but not complicated.”

Sherlock nodded, “Yes, I agree. Dealing with people is... rather sticky, since they always use their emotions, and almost never their brain. Quite aggravating.” She took a sip of her tea and looked at him, “How often do you work on computers? Surely that isn't all you do. It must be boring.”

Jim chuckled, “It's not as boring as you would think, Sherlock dear. I enjoy computers like you enjoy your puzzles, so I don't get often get bored with it. But I do every now and then. I just normally hit a pub when that happens.”

Sherlock sighed, “This is boring. We're in a restaurant just talking, nothing to do. You haven't given me a crime to solve.” She almost looked as if she was pouting, “There have been no cases. Nothing. It's as if all the criminals decided to take a hiatus.”

Jim laughed at her expressions, even when she glared at him. “I'm sorry, but I don't think my old boss or the Scotland Yard would appreciate me committing an actual crime, Sherlock. Or else I might just entertain you.” He said, licking his lips.

Sherlock leaned back, “You still could entertain me. Describe a location with a crime scene, give me the detail surrounding the body.” She suggested.

Jim shook his head no, “Uh-uh, because if I described it to you then it would be very easy for you to deduce because I would have given you the information that you need.” He said to frustrate her more. He could tell she needed something to do, to think about.

Sherlock groaned, “Everything is so dull!” She whined, her face not even showing any emotion except for perhaps a slight annoyance.

Jim made a slight hum, and then he tapped his fingers on the table. “I suppose I could provide some entertainment, perhaps. I might be able to draw a scene in enough detail, though you'd have to give me a few moments.”

“There's no paper or pen here to use,” Sherlock replied smugly.

“I know.”

Sherlock looked at him, “What do you suggest?”

Jim just looked at her and then his hand, as if there was dirt underneath of his fingernails and that he picking at it, “I suppose you could join me in the adventure of my flat.”

Sherlock was intrigued by his offer. If she said yes, then she'd also know where it was that he lived. Though she would be completely on his territory should anything happen... “Fine.” she agreed. “We should leave now, then, before I start telling people how many are being cheated on and so on and they become angry with me for something that's not my fault.” She said, standing up.

She and Jim paid the bill and left, getting back into the black vehicle that Jim had used to take them there. They sat in the car, neither saying a word, no noise coming from either of them. They just watched... and waited. Finally, they got there, to Jim's flat. It wasn't as exciting as Sherlock had hoped, but it did look nice. She was just expecting more since she knew the criminal side of Jim, or at least what he made her think he was.

The inside seemed a little bright because the hardwood floor was a light sandy colored wood, and it was the kind where you slid it into place. The walls were painted a cool shade of gray, and there were black stencils on the top of the wall, obviously, a job done by hand, possibly Jim's. The flat was very open, everything out where you could see it, except one door that Sherlock deduced to be the 'bedroom', although there was a bed in the corner of the open flat in what looked to be the living room. When you walked in, to your left was the kitchen, open and inviting with its low counter tops and stove, microwave on a shelf above the stove, cupboards surrounding it. To the right was a little study like area, bookshelves and a board, accumulating something resembling research, and a desk with a laptop on top of it. There were some computer components on the desk as if Jim was about to build a computer. The rest of the flat was the living room, though Jim had out his bed. There was also a piano by the wall to his bedroom. There were no dressers, so those would have actually been in the bedroom. It was spacious and nice, simple.

Jim had gone over to his desk, grabbing a sketchbook and a pencil, and he led the two of them to the couch in the living room, sitting down with Sherlock. “If you'd like you can look around more thoroughly while I draw this.”

Sherlock shook her head, “I'll be content sitting here as long as you don't take too long. How fast of a drawer can you be?”

Jim shrugged, “Dunno, I suppose fairly fast.” He set to work, and Sherlock watched with interest. She saw he did most of his work by shading in the detail, and she found herself intrigued. He was _very_ talented, and she wondered how she couldn't tell that he was an artist before he had mentioned drawing a scene. He had to have been very careful to keep that hidden, or else he didn't draw often and was just that much of an artistic genius. Well, he probably was at the rate he was drawing the picture.

It didn't take even an hour for Jim to finish a whole crime scene, the dead body laying there, and objects scattered all about, just like a real crime scene. Jim handed her the book so she could study it better, and she observed.

“Attacker is male, and he is left-handed. He strangled the victim with something similar to that of a belt, and he dropped his pack of cigarettes in a rush. He left a trail of footprints, though most would have missed them. A crime of passion, it seems. Not planned beforehand based on how he had gone about it. By the footprints you showed, I'd say he's around 6'1”, an average of 140 pounds.” She looked up at Jim and smirked, “Did I miss anything?”

Jim grinned at her, “Yes, you did.”

Sherlock frowned and looked at the picture again, and she saw nothing else related to the crime. “What is it? What was it that I have missed?” She asked, befuddled and annoyed.

Jim chuckled, and pointed to the corner of the picture by where he had signed his name, like he does on most of his works, “Right there.”

Sherlock looked closer and saw nothing, “I don't understand.”

Jim, being an arse, simply said, “What kind of murderer actually leaves his signature on the ground?” He teased, talking about his initials.

Sherlock looked at him with a glare, “So I didn't miss anything.”

Jim shook his head, “No, you didn't.”

Sherlock glared at him before huffing, sitting back more on the couch. “Bored.”

Jim made a slight 'hmm' noise, glancing over at her. “Surely there must be something that caught your interest when you walked in.” He stated, knowing she was more curious about his flat then she was letting on.

Sherlock was quiet a few moments before she allowed her eyes travel to the piano, “I did not see any calluses resembling that of a pianist. Yet you wouldn't have that sitting here for no reason if you did not play.”

Jim nodded, “Yes, that's true.” He smirked, “Interested in hearing a song? I could easily play something for you if that's what you'd like.”

Sherlock gave a short nod but didn't say anything. Jim got off the couch and made his way across his flat, moving to the piano bench. He pulled it out and sat down, his fingers sliding over the piano keys, not touching them yet. He glanced back at Sherlock and saw she was leaning against the back of the couch, eyes closed, waiting for the music to begin. He put his hand on the piano keys, and his fingers began to play, orchestrating a song for Sherlock to listen to. He was playing Moonlight Sonata, one of his many favorite classical songs, and he played through all three parts of the symphony. When he finished, he looked over to see Sherlock, eyes still closed.

“Play another.” She said simply, never once looking over to see Jim. At least, that he was aware of.

He turned his attention back to his piano, and he began to play Haydyn's Surprise Symphony, another of his favorites. He lost himself in the music, his eyes closed as he played. He put himself into the music, letting it simply flow. By the time he had finished, he opened his eyes to find Sherlock standing by him.

“Beautiful.” She said simply, looking at Jim.

Jim looked at her, “Yes, you are.” He said in return.

Sherlock raised a quizzical brow to him, and he chuckled. Both remained where they were for a few moments before Jim tugged her down onto his lap, his hand on her sides. “May I kiss you?” He asked, waiting for her reaction.

Sherlock felt her face flush, and she didn't say anything, didn't move. Her eyes flickered across his features, trying to understand what he was thinking. “Why?”

Jim licked his lips, moistening them, “You are by far the most intriguing woman I have ever met, and I would really love to kiss you.” When she didn't do anything and made no protest, Jim used his hands to pull her face closer to his, kissing her sweetly and passionately.

Sherlock leaned into his touch, her arms at first doing nothing, then slowly snaking around his neck, deepening the kiss that the two genii were sharing. The two tongues battled for dominance, neither winning by the time they pulled apart.

Jim grinned, his hands resting on her thighs, “You know, there is a perfectly good bed right over there.” He said, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sherlock kept her arms around his neck, and she kissed him again, “Better hope you can carry me over there, then.”

Jim just laughed, and he stood up, carrying Sherlock across the room, sitting her down in the middle of his bed. He pushed her back and leaned over her, kissing her, as his hands traveled the sides of her body, from the torso down to her thighs, relishing the way she shivered underneath his touch. Sherlock looked at him, a slight frown on her face, “James... I've never... I don't...” She tried several times to form her sentence each time failing to say what she wanted to.

Jim nodded, “I know.” He said, kissing her neck. Sherlock let out a gasp, her hands resting on his arms. He slid his hands back up, and finally, he let them rest over her breasts, applying a firm pressure. Sherlock inhaled, looking at him, waiting for the next move. He let his thumbs stroke over where her nipple would be, and she bit her lower lip to keep herself from moaning out. “James...” She whispered, her eyes closing for a brief moment before opening them and looking back up at him.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Sherlock.” He kissed her ear, giving it a slight lick, before moving down her jawline, slowly down her jawline and stopped where her shirt interfered with his path. After giving her breasts a few more gentle squeezes through the fabric of clothes, he unbuttoned her coat, all the way. Before even sliding it off, he did the same to her shirt, unbuttoning it. When her flesh was revealed, he planted kisses down from her collarbone to where her bra began. He ghosted over the bra and moved down to right below, kissing the skin down to her belly button, swirling his tongue around it a few times. Sherlock was writhing beneath of him, her breath quickening, her pulse high, and her pupils were very dilated, showing only a sliver of her gray-blue eyes.

Jim shifted enough to pull her forward, sliding the coat and shirt off of her long pale arms with ease, tossing them carefully to the floor. He immediately put his mouth to her shoulder, kissing and nibbling there, licking it afterwards. He slid across her chest, going to the opposite shoulder to give it the same treatment. As she moaned quietly beneath him, her hands came up to work deftly with his shirt and tie, undoing the tie quickly and then unbuttoning his shirt, throwing them off to the ground as well. She let her hands roam across his chest, feeling the skin. She saw the marks of many different scars across his shoulders, faded against his skin, and looked at them with wonder before she gasped. Jim had pulled the cup of her bra down and began to suck on a nipple, causing her to tip back her head, “James...”

Jim pulled back and smirked at her, capturing her lips in another kiss. Jim's eye were just as dilated as Sherlock's, his pulse rocketing. He slid her straps down her shoulders, tugging her bra down. Once her bra was down to her rib cage, he lifted her back enough to unclasp it, pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. His hands brushed across her bare breasts, fingers running over her nipples, causing Sherlock to arch up into his touch.

Sherlock tugged at his trousers for a moment, before she finally was able to get them unbuttoned, her fingers not working as well as they normally would under the current circumstances. She quickly unzipped them, pulling them down as far as she could, leaving on his pants. Jim kicked the trousers off the rest of the way onto the floor, as he worked at her trousers. He unbuttoned and unzipped them, chuckling when he saw she was not wearing any panties. “I suppose I could see you going commando.” He said, trailing kisses from her stomach down towards the creases of her hips, as he pulled down her trousers, dropping them off onto the floor with his.

“Why wouldn't I?” She gasped out, “They don't serve any real purpose!” She said, arching her back when he kissed down lower, his tongue flicking out against her clitoris. She was panting now, her body almost trembling with anticipation.

Jim tugged off his pants while keeping his mouth focused on her, dropping them onto the floor, as one hand brushed down against her clitoris, slowly sliding lower, parting her skin as he slid his thumb into her vagina, rubbing against the entrance teasingly. Sherlock let out a whimper, her hips rolling without telling them to do so. James smirked against her skin, his tongue darting out as his lips closed over her, sucking on the skin, causing her to wriggle beneath him. “James, please.” she asked, her eyes opening to look down at him, “Please.” She repeated.

Jim went back up, kissing her. He pulled her legs around his waist, having her wrap them, and he slowly slid himself into her, inch by inch, allowing her to adjust to him. Sherlock had gasped out and moaned, her hands coming up to his back, grabbing at his skin there. “Move, _move._ ” She commanded, her hips rolling up against his. Jim let out a gasp, turned to a moan, and he braced himself, hands on each side of her, and he began to thrust, slow and firm at first. Sherlock squirmed beneath him, wanting to move away while at the same time wanting more as if she could not decide what she wanted.

Jim moved his lips to her neck, kissing her just beneath the ear in the sweet spot most people had, receiving a whimper from her. He moved to her jawline, kissing all the way to her lips. He nipped at her lower lip and slipped in his tongue. He explored every crevice of her hot wet mouth, mapping it and storing all the data in his mind.

When Jim started kissing her, she rolled her hips up against his more, signaling for a faster pace. When Jim moved his hips faster, harder, she moaned into his mouth, her nails clawing at his back. She knew it would leave marks, but neither of them cared at the moment. She just knew she wanted more of him.

Jim finally began to snap his hips as hard and as fast as he could, slamming into her. She let out a mewling cry, burying her face in the crook of his neck, “James!” She gasped, her body beginning to tremble. “Please, _please, please, please!_ ” She began to beg, her body aching with the need to release.

Jim grunted, one hand moving to a breast and giving it a firm squeeze, his thumb playing with her nipple, rubbing against it. His face was also buried in her neck, and he continued to kiss it, bite, suck, and lick, all to bring a sense of pleasure to her.

Sherlock's body began to tremble, and she was a panting whimpering mess. After a few moments her body shook with an orgasm, and she cried out, “ _James!_ ” As she laid there limply, letting him pound into her while she was in bliss, her muscles tightening around Jim.

Because of her orgasm, Jim was pulled into his own as well. He moaned as he came hard into her, his thrusts erratic as his seed was emptied into her. When his had subsided he slowly slid out of her, both panting and trying to catch a breath. He fell on top of the bed beside her, and pulled her into his arms, giving her a lazy kiss.

Laying in Jim's arms, Sherlock felt content not doing anything other than just laying there, for practically the first time in her life. She closed her eyes and rested her head close to his chest, taking in his scent. He had a musky wooded scent, mix with something sweet, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. The scent was distinctly Jim, though.

The two remained quiet for a while, before Jim looked over at her and his face broke out into a smile, “That, that was very good.” He said, kissing her again. Sherlock eagerly kissed back, one of her hands coming up to his chest and pressing her hand against him, “Yes, yes it was.”

 


End file.
